


An Extraordinary Case

by shipallllltheships



Category: Lost Girl, Orphan Black (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2276043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipallllltheships/pseuds/shipallllltheships
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orphan Black/Lost Girl crossover. AU in which both shows take place in the same universe. What if you found a WANTED poster with your face on it? This is the problem that Alison Hendrix faces. And she's willing to take extraordinary measures to figure this out. Including asking for help from a very unexpected source. Rated T for now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hired

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I got this idea a few months ago and I've been wanting to write it ever since. I've got a general idea of what the plot is going to be, but I'm open to suggestions if you have any! Situations you'd like to see, pairings you'd like to see, etc. I'm planning on keeping canon sexualities, for the most part (Alison is probably an exception), but not necessarily canon couples. Expect any characters in either the LG universe or the OB universe to show up at some point. There will definitely be some romance, but probably not a ton of smutty smut. Anyway, let me know what you think so far!

Alison Hendrix swallowed hard as she stared at the decrepit structure in front of her. She glanced down at the paper in her hand. She had checked the address at least a dozen times, but once more couldn't hurt. She looked back up at the building. Yes, she could just barely make out a faded number hanging haphazardly on the corner of the apartment complex, and a momentary look towards the street sign confirmed that she was in the correct place.

She shook her head. "Walk away, Alison. This isn't worth it," she muttered to herself. She sighed, loudly, attracting the attention of an apparently homeless man sprawled a few feet from her. He rolled over and groaned in her direction, causing her to jump. "Goodness!" she exclaimed. The man seemed to be struggling to get up, and his jerky movements toward her made up her mind that she needed to get away from this place. She turned and began walking quickly back towards her car, the modern make and clean exterior overly pretentious in this neighborhood. She gripped her keys tightly; she was surprised she hadn't made her palm bleed yet. She was carrying them in a classic defensive pose: keys bundled in her fist with one poking out from between her knuckles, ready to stab someone in the eye if the need arose.

She held her posture stiff, as usual. She made it to the driver's side door of her car and shifted the keys in her hand, pressing the button to unlock it. She reached for the handle before her hand froze. She inhaled deeply and lowered her eyes to the paper in her hand one more time. The words danced across the page.

"Think your problem is weird? We guarantee we've seen weirder!"

This was truly her last chance. That was the only thing that could have convinced her to turn around once more and, this time giving the homeless man only a passing glance, strode with false confidence across the street and to the front door.

The building seemed to be crumbling to the ground before her very eyes. The concrete walls resembled the surface of the moon, with pits and craters abounding. Half the windows were boarded up, and the other half had broken glass and bars that reminded Alison of jail cells. The front door was less of a door and more of a large, broken board on hinges. She pulled it open, wincing at the unpleasant screech of the wood against the concrete floor. She carefully stepped into a lobby, of sorts. She did see a row of what appeared to be mailboxes, and a faded list of names next to doorbells. She took a few steps towards the list, squinting and looking for either name listed on the flyer in her hand. She found one next to the matching apartment number, and pressed her finger lightly to the doorbell. Leaning in towards the speaker, she spoke, her voice sounding much more confident than she felt.

"Hello?"

She heard a magnetic sounding clang, followed by a low siren, and she quickly removed her finger from the button, narrowing her eyes crossly.

"Well, really," she spoke out loud, into the empty room. "How can anyone live like this?"

A voice spoke from behind her. "We manage."

She whirled around, clutching at her chest and letting out a small shriek. The woman leaning against the wall smiled. She was taller than Alison, with long, dark hair and matching eyes. She was wearing a skintight, full-leather outfit, displaying her ample cleavage and quite a fit body. Her smile was alluring, and she did not seem in the least offended by Alison's comment. Alison took a deep breath and glared at her.

"You cannot sneak up on someone like that! Not in a…" her voice, which had started out angry, trailed off, and the second woman finished her sentence.

"Not in a place like this?" Alison blushed, and the woman's smile widened. She stepped forward and held out her hand. "I'm Bo."

Alison stared down at the hand. "Oh." Realization dawned on her. "Oh!" She held out the hand holding the paper, the wrong hand if she meant to shake Bo's, and spoke quickly. "Of Bo and Kenzi Solve Problems?"

Bo met her eyes and they narrowed slightly. She dropped her hand and crossed her arms, taking a small step towards Alison. "How did you get our address? It's not on the flyer."

Alison swallowed. However intimidating a figure this other woman might make, she knew that she was also tough. She was a soccer mom, for goodness sake! She stood up even straighter, pushing her chest out and lifting her chin. "I have my ways. I thought it would be easier to go straight to the source."

Bo cocked her head slightly. "And you didn't want to just call the phone number? It's a direct line."

"I…" Alison hesitated. "I didn't want it to show up on our phone bill."

"Our?"

"My…husband. My husband and my children." Her voice was defiant. "I didn't want them to know about this."

Bo considered for a moment before brushing lightly past her. She pushed open the next set of doors, this time made of metal bars, and started up a flight of stairs. She glanced back over her shoulder and called, "You coming?"

Alison took a deep breath. She wasn't past the point of no return yet. Bo didn't even know her name. She stared at the retreating figure and shook her head. She'd come this far. As unprofessional as this…agency seemed to be, they were her last chance. And if it didn't work out…well, she just wouldn't give them her full name. Plus…she clutched her bag, knowing that it contained military-grade pepper spray. She took another deep breath and followed Bo up the stairs, trying to ignore the spider webs lining the corners of the concrete steps.

She reached the top and glanced around. There was no sign of Bo.

"Down here!" Bo's voice called. This was followed by some words that Alison couldn't make out, and a second, slightly higher pitched voice. She followed the sounds down the hall and to a wooden door. She would have felt uncomfortable just walking in, but there were large holes in the walls and she could see directly into the apartment. So she pushed the partially open door and stepped in.

The two women had clearly tried to make the apartment as homey as possible. But Alison couldn't imagine spending any amount of time here. There were holes, not just in the interior walls, but also in the exterior walls. The breeze blew directly through the room. Her eyes widened at the sight of a large cockroach scuttling past her and towards the kitchen, which was in an unacceptable state of disarray. She would have continued her inventory of the issues in the room, but the sound of a clearing throat drew her focus. She lifted her eyes to find Bo and another smaller woman in identical poses glaring at her. Arms crossed over her chest, hip jutting out, the smaller one spoke.

"Alright, Suburban Barbie, you better have a really good explanation for why you'd come busting into our place unannounced."

"Barbie?" Alison glanced down at her outfit, offended. "That's…" she stopped herself. Stay focused. She looked back up at the woman and exhaled. "You must be Kenzi."

The woman narrowed her eyes further. "We'll see. What's your name?"

"Alison," she answered.

"Last name?"

"Hendrix," she replied automatically, and then winced. So much for protecting her identity.

Kenzi glanced at Bo, who nodded and pulled out her phone and dialed. There was a moment of silence before she spoke. "Yeah, Dyson? Can you run a name please? Alison Hendrix. Yeah. Ok, I'll wait."

Alison's eyes widened in panic. "Who…who is that? Who are you talking to? You can't just…"

"Relax," Bo replied, her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. "He's a cop."

Alison gulped. She guessed she was lucky no one had taken her seriously at the police station. It was unlikely there was an official record of the conversation. "You have no right to – "

"Actually," Kenzi interrupted, "you have no right to do whatever you did to find our address. It's not like we're listed. We've got to check you out, ok? Can't be too careful in our line of work."

Alison took a deep breath and tried to respond politely. "And what is your line of work, exactly?"

Kenzi smiled sardonically. "You came to us, sweetheart."

Alison nodded, just as a voice over the phone pulled Bo's attention back. She listened intently as this Dyson person spoke for a moment then thanked him and hung up. She looked at Kenzi. "She's clean. No record, always pays her parking tickets. He even ran her family. Nothing."

Kenzi nodded, and both women's postures relaxed considerably. Bo gestured towards the couch. "Would you like to sit?" she asked Alison gently.

Alison glanced at the moth-eaten couch. Her stomach churned, wondering when it had last been cleaned. She shook her head and smiled tightly. "I'm fine standing."

Bo shrugged. "Suit yourself." She and Kenzi flopped down on the couch and turned to face Alison. "So," she continued. "What can we help you with? And why don't you want your husband to know you're here?"

Kenzi smiled delightedly. "Sounds juicy." The smile fell off her face as she stared at Alison. "We need payment upfront, of course. If we decide to take you on."

Alison nodded quickly. She'd been expecting that, and had removed a significant amount of money from her personal account, the one Donnie didn't have access to, before coming here. It was safely tucked into her purse. "Of course." She walked over to the couch, opened her bag, and rummaged around inside before pulling out a well-worn sheet of paper with a picture and a few simple words printed on it. She handed it to Bo, who squinted at it for a moment before showing it to Kenzi. They both looked confused.

Kenzi looked at Bo. "I thought you said she didn't have a record?" She glanced up at Alison. "Looks like you've really turned your life around. When did you lose the name?"

The image showed a woman, identical to Alison. At least, identical if Alison had been a prostitute. Or possibly a crack addict. Her hair was unruly where Alison's was neatly coiffed. Her makeup was dark and over the top, while Alison's was carefully and subtly applied. And her face showed an anger that Alison's rarely did. But it was the same face. Printed in large capital letters over the picture was one word: WANTED. Beneath the imagine were the few known details about the woman, including a name: Sarah Manning.

Alison shook her head. "No. You don't understand." She took a deep breath. "That's not me."

Bo and Kenzi both looked at her skeptically. She was used to that. This was where she had lost her friend Aynsley. And the police. And the private investigator she had hired.

"Twin sister?" Bo asked.

Alison shrugged lightly. "Not as far as I know. I'm an only child. My parents swear I wasn't a twin. And I've seen the video of my birth. There didn't seem to be another baby present there."

"Ew," Kenzi said, making a face. Bo nudged her.

"So, what? You want to find out who she is?"

Alison nodded. "I found this flyer when I was in New York. Can you imagine what people must have thought if they saw me taking it off the board? I can't have people thinking I'm a criminal." She paused before continuing seriously. "And…who is she? She's…I mean, she looks exactly like me." She took a deep breath. "I haven't been able to sleep since I found this. I feel like she's haunting me. I just have this feeling that there's something bigger here. I need to know what it is." She spoke urgently. "I have a husband. And two children. I can't have some…criminal with my face walking around. My life is normal. That's all I want. A normal life with my family. I need to protect them from whatever this is." The pitch of her voice had gotten higher and higher as she spoke, and her face was flushed.

Bo and Kenzi exchanged a look before Bo nodded. "Alright. We'll look into it. You said you found the flyer in New York?" Alison nodded, and Bo continued. "Ok. We'll see what we can find out."

Kenzi stood up and walked towards Alison, palm out and upwards. "$500 now, $500 when we solve it."

Alison nodded and, without hesitation, pulled the appropriate amount from her purse and handed it over. Kenzi took it and began counting it happily.

"We're getting Chinese tonight, Bo-Bo!"

Alison might have been more cautious about handing over such large sums of money, but she was truly desperate. She had put it mildly when describing the situation to Bo and Kenzi. In truth, she was worried she was going crazy. She wasn't sleeping at all. Sometimes, she'd feel like she had just made the whole thing up in her mind, and she would have to dig the wanted poster out from it's hiding place and stroke it, tracing cheekbones identical to hers, just to ease her mind. And other times, she felt convinced that this woman was somehow her. As though she had a secret second life, an identity so secret that Alison herself wasn't even aware of it. This woman, this woman who shared her face, was the only thing that Alison could think about. Her days, usually spent working busily around the house on various cleaning and projects, were now consumed with scenarios of who she could be, each one more fraught than the rest. Alison needed answers. And if this strangely dressed, overly sexualized, pair of strangers could help her, then she would pay any amount.

But, of course, she wouldn't tell them all that. She'd just hand over money when they asked.

She nodded in Bo's direction. "Thank you." She handed over a small piece of paper with a phone number written on it. "This is to a burner cell phone. It's untraceable. Please contact me here as soon as you know anything."

Bo nodded distractedly and took the paper. Her mind was already poring over the limited facts of the case, creating a game plan.

Alison nodded again. There was an awkward silence while Bo stared into space, Kenzi counted money, and Alison stood there staring between the two of them. She finally shook her head. Clearly, manners were not going to be the strong suit here. "I'll…show myself out." She turned on her heel and headed out the door. Back in her car, she heaved a deep sigh. There. It was out of her hands. Now all she could do was wait for a call.


	2. Chapter 2

As it turned out, she didn’t have to wait very long. Before she could put the car into gear, the cell phone in her purse began to ring. She grabbed it. Bo was the only one with the number.

“Hello?”

“Is this Alison?”

The voice was low and a little husky. A very attractive female voice, but decidedly not Bo’s.

“Who is this? How did you get this number?” Alison demanded.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” the voice replied. “Bo gave me the number. I’m helping them out. Can you meet me?”

Alison looked at the clock on the dashboard. She needed to be back to pick up Gemma at ballet in an hour and a half. “I have an hour.”

On the other end of the line, there was a deep sigh. “Fine. I’ll take it. Meet me at The Harp. It’s down the street from Bo and Kenzi’s.” The line was disconnected without so much as a goodbye. Alison removed the phone from her ear and stared at it indignantly.

“How rude!” She said out loud. What kind of people had she hired? She sighed and put the car in drive. She found the pub with no problem. It looked only slightly more appealing than Bo’s apartment. The neon sign above the door was flashing weakly. As she watched, the ‘r’ flickered a few times and then went out completely. Alison sighed. She really needed to associate with better people.

She pushed open the door to the pub and stepped into a dark, dismal room that smelled of stale smoke and…feet? She wrinkled her nose as she scanned the room. There were more patrons than she would have expected, given that it was two in the afternoon. But she supposed that this sort of _establishment_ might attract a “two in the afternoon” kind of crowd. She had no idea whom she might be meeting, so she nervously made her way over to the bar and nearly jumped out of her skin when someone tapped her on the shoulder and said “Alison?”

She whirled around and found herself facing, quite possibly, the most attractive woman she had ever seen. Bo had had a certain inherent sexuality, and she was undoubtedly beautiful. But the woman standing before her now was astoundingly striking. She looked distinctly Scandinavian, with her long blonde hair, piercing green-blue eyes, and strong cheekbones. Alison was so distracted taking in the sight of the statuesque woman that it took her a moment to realize that the expression on her face was undeniably sour. She cleared her throat.

“Um. Yes. I’m Alison.” She straightened up a bit, forcing a polite smile onto her face. “And you are?”

“Tamsin,” the woman responded curtly. “Come on,” she continued, gesturing to a table in the corner. “We don’t have much time.”

Alison felt the accusation behind the words and stiffened. “Well it’s not like you gave me much notice.”

The woman just scowled and turned her back on Alison, grabbing a chair and slouching into it. Alison sat across from her carefully.

“How - ” her voice came out a little squeaky, so she quickly cleared her throat before continuing. “How did you know it was me?”

In response, Tamsin opened a file that Alison hadn’t noticed. She pushed it across the table and Alison gazed in astonishment at the images in front of her. She recognized the image on the wanted poster. But she as she flipped through the pages, her bewilderment grew and her stomach sank lower and lower. Drivers licenses. Lots of them. Five, including her own. All with her face on them. Her face in slightly different incarnations; some with glasses, some without. All different hairstyles and expressions. But all with her face. She looked up at Tamsin.

“What…what is this?” She croaked.

Tamsin narrowed her eyes and bent over the table, leaning closer to Alison. “Is this some kind of con? A scam? Is that what you are? Because I swear to God, if you’re wasting my time - ”

“What?” Alison interrupted. “What are you even saying? I have no idea what all of this is. Who are all of these people? How did you find them?”

Tamsin glared at her. “You’re serious? This whole soccer-mom thing isn’t an act?”

Alison wasn’t about to let this woman make her feel bad about herself. “Excuse me,” she replied indignantly. “This is not an act. This is my _life_ , Tamsin, whoever you are. This is my life and I do not understand what is happening at all. That is why I hired _you people_ , though so far, all you’ve done is offend me and drag me to some of the most unsavory places I’ve ever seen. So if you aren’t going to take me seriously and explain what the _dickens you’re talking about_ – ”

“Alright!” Tamsin interrupted her rant with an amused smirk on her face. “Alright, Soccer Mom. I believe you.” She shook her head. “This is fucking weird.”

“Language!” Alison snapped.

Tamsin’s smirk widened. “Wow. Ok.”

Alison swallowed and looked at her with a slightly guilty expression. “I’m sorry. I’m…used to my kids. I…I guess I don’t really get out much.”

Tamsin stared at her and nodded slowly, then called across the room to the bartender. “Hey. Two whiskeys. Neat.”

“Oh,” Alison protested. “Thank you, but, no, I can’t. I have to pick my daughter up in an hour.”

Tamsin shrugged. “I think this kind of thing needs a drink to go along with it.”

Alison glanced back at the pictures and decided Tamsin was right. She nodded, and Tamsin pushed the drink that the waitress had just dropped off across the table to her.

“So,” Tamsin started, “I started by looking up this Sarah Manning chick.”

Alison gulped a sip of whiskey and made a face. Tamsin gave her an amused smile and continued.

“She’s British. So I don’t have a ton of information on her. I don’t have access to the national databases, at least not legally, so that’s going to take a little bit more time. I’ve put in an official request with SIS, and I’ll use my own workarounds in the meantime. But basically, she came to Canada with her foster mother and foster brother when she was young, 3 or 4. They’ve been here ever since, but she’s been in and out of trouble her whole life. Petty theft, some fraud, nothing too terrible. But it adds up. So that’s why she’s wanted here.”

Alison nodded. At least she wasn’t a murderer.

“Where are you from?” Tamsin asked her. “Any chance you’re adopted? Or a switched at birth kind of thing?”

Alison shook her head. “I…I don’t think so. Wouldn’t someone have noticed?”

Tamsin shrugged. “You’d be surprised. Where’s your family from? Are you secretly British, by any chance? Where were you born?”

“No,” Alison replied. “I was born in Scarborough. I’ve lived there my entire life. I have a picture of me as a baby outside the hospital with my parents. So unless Sarah Manning was also born in Scarborough, I’m not entirely sure how I could have been swapped with her twin.”

“Eh, it’s a long shot,” Tamsin agreed. “Besides,” she continued, gesturing towards the other photos in the file. “Doesn’t explain all of them.”

Alison nodded emphatically in agreement. “Yes. Who are they?” She read the names of the licensees. Elizabeth Childs. Cosima Niehaus. Antonia Sawicki. Jennifer Fitzsimmons. And hers: Alison Hendrix. All of the birthdays were within a few weeks of her own.

“I took the picture of Manning and ran it through facial recognition software. It picked up all of these IDs, obviously.” She looked suspiciously at Alison. “And you’re _sure_ that they aren’t pseudonyms?”

“Cross my heart,” Alison promised, doing just that.

Tamsin looked incredulous at the gesture, and then incredibly amused. A slow smile crept across her face. Was this chick for real? She raised her eyebrows, realizing that, in all her years, she had never met someone who was so perfectly and genuinely exactly as she was. It took balls to be so…real. She shook her head.

“Alright. Well, since I got so many hits in Canada, I put in a request to do the same in the US and Europe. Those take a little bit more time, stupid bureaucratic red tape. But I should hear back in a day or two, I’ll let you know.”

“So these are all people? Real people? Do they actually exist?”

Tamsin shrugged. “I guess. They have driver licenses, at least. Either this is a pretty seriously flawed identity theft scheme, or they exist.”

“But…” Alison paused and looked at Tamsin seriously. “Why do they have my face?” She could feel herself starting to panic. It had been bad enough when she thought she had just one twin out there. Now she was looking at four other people, _in Canada alone,_ that looked exactly like her. And this Sarah Manning woman was from the UK. What if there were more in Europe? What did this mean? And how was she possibly going to keep her family out of this? According to the licenses, three of the other women lived within two hours of Toronto. How had they not managed to run into each other already? This was insane.

Tamsin studied her. She could read the panic on Alison’s face as clear as day. She wanted to help her calm down, but she was terrible at this kind of thing. “Well,” she started carefully, “that’s why you hired us, right? We’ll figure this out, ok? Trust me, we’re pretty much experts on all the weirdest shit.” She glanced at Alison and edited herself. “I mean…stuff.” She took a deep breath. “It’ll all be ok.”

Alison had just met this woman, but she felt strangely comforted by the reassurance. She nodded, and then glanced at her phone. “Oh…fishsticks!” she exclaimed.

Tamsin looked confused. “Huh?”

Alison stood up and gathered her things. “Thank you, for the drink and for the information. But I have to go, I’m late picking up my daughter.”

Tamsin leaned back in her chair and smiled at Alison. “Is her name Priscilla?”

Alison cocked her head and gave her a stern look. “Gemma.”

“Cute,” she replied, smirking.

“Hmph,” Alison hummed at her, before turning on her heel and leaving the bar.

She got behind the wheel and turned the car on, pulling a u-turn and peeling off. She got to Gemma’s ballet school with about thirty seconds to spare, just as her daughter came skipping out the door, still wearing her tutu and swinging her backpack by it’s straps.

“Hi Mama!” she chirped as she pulled open her door and crawled into the backseat.

“Hi sweetheart,” Alison replied, smiling as she watched the girl struggling to buckle her seatbelt. “Do you need a hand?”

“No,” she responded emphatically. “I got it.”

A few seconds later, seatbelt clicked into place, they headed towards home. Alison turned on the music, and Gemma hummed happily along throughout the ride. This was lucky, because Alison wasn’t in a good headspace for conversation. Her mind kept replaying her conversation with Tamsin. And pictures of her face in its various incarnations kept flashing in front of her eyes. She tried to hold onto the feeling of reassurance that she had felt in Tamsin’s presence, but she could feel herself losing it. She pressed the garage door opener and pulled into the garage. She glanced in the rearview mirror and watched Gemma unbuckle her seatbelt and scramble out of the car and into the house. She took a deep breath and unbuckled her own belt, sliding out of the car and locking it behind her. She followed Gemma into the house.

“Hello? Donnie?”

Her husband appeared in the kitchen doorway looking annoyed. “Alison, where have you been? I have a 4:00 tee time.”

“I had to pick Gemma up from ballet. You know that,” she replied.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “but you usually take Oscar. But you weren’t here when he got home from school. So,” he repeated, “where have you been?”

She shrugged lightly and waved her hand in front of her face, brushing off his concern. “I had things to do. Errands to run. I am busy too, you know.”

He shook his head disbelievingly. “Whatever, Ali. I’m heading to the club.” He turned and Alison heard the front door open.

“Enjoy your golf!” Alison called after him, the sarcasm so deeply buried under layers of sweetness that it was barely discernable. She flipped idly through the mail on the counter and turned to find her son, Oscar, standing there.

“Hey Mom,” he greeted her.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, startled. “Hi honey. How was school?”

“Good,” he said, shrugging. “Can I have a snack?”

She pointed towards the bowl of fruit on the counter. “Help yourself.”

“Come onnnnn,” he groaned. “Can I have some chips?”

Alison considered him sternly for a moment before she softened. “I suppose,” she relented. She poured some chips into a bowl and he grabbed it, heading towards the living room. She heard the TV turn on. “Share with your sister!” she called, and, hearing a grunt of agreement, she headed downstairs to her craft room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Back at the bar, Tamsin downed the rest of her drink and, seeing that Alison’s was still half full, finished hers as well. She shook her head and pulled out her phone. She dialed.

“Hello?”

“Bo, is this chick for real? Seriously?”

Bo laughed, a light, tinkling laugh. “I don’t know, I was hoping you could tell me.”

“I guess I believe her, at least. I think she genuinely doesn’t know anything about this.”

“Do you think it’s Fae-related?”

Tamsin wrinkled her nose. “It’s weird. There’s definitely a whiff of something. But it’s not something I’ve ever really seen before. I’m just not sure.” 

“So she’s not Fae?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t get a good read on it. Like I said, it smells funny.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“Well, I’ve gotta track down these other chicks. You up for some investigating?”

“What about your partner?”

“Dogbreath is working on paperwork with the UK. He’ll be busy for a while.”

Bo laughed again. “Ok. I’m not doing anything. When do you want to go?”

Tamsin glanced at her watch. “Pick you up in half an hour?”

“See you then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you guys are liking this, let me know what you think!


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